


His Man Friday

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Challenge: Porn Battle V, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-16
Updated: 2008-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yes," Rodney says, smile stretched tight across his face; his arms are folded tightly across his chest. "Well, I'm sure we'll manage to keep ourselves amused somehow."</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Man Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle V.

"Yes," Rodney says, smile stretched tight across his face; his arms are folded tightly across his chest. "Well, I'm sure we'll manage to keep ourselves amused somehow. How could we do otherwise, when stranded for hours on a lifeless alien lump of rock with a single pack of cards and Sheppard's collection of classic rock LPs to keep us company?"

"Hey!" John says, looking over at him from the other front seat of the jumper, "I brought one mix tape with me that one time--"

"To another galaxy?"

"Gentlemen," Sam interrupts, the set of her mouth visible even over the video feed that's coming staticky through a distorted and unstable wormhole; she sounds a lot less tolerant of them bickering than Elizabeth ever was. Rodney supposes that's what happens when you have a decade of O'Neill and Jackson to grind the edge off your patience first. "If Radek and I can't get the problem with the 'gate sorted in the next few hours, we'll send a subspace transmission to the Daedalus to go pick you up. Our best estimate is that if they divert now, they'll be a little under a day out from your location. Either way, we'll have you home soon enough."

"Thanks, Colonel," John says. "If you want us between now and then, I guess you know where to find us." He nods at her, and swipes one palm across the controls to cut the video feed; Sam's image blinks out in a flash of white static.

"Oh, thank Christ," Rodney says, "That is a prime example of why I don't like to be interrupted. I have never been so uncomfortable in my entire life." Somehow, now that Sam's gone, he's even more fidgety; the high points of his cheeks are flushed red as he sinks back down to his knees.

"You've never been so uncomfortable?" John says, tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip. Rodney is stroking his palms slowly up and down John's thighs, rubbing the leg hairs the wrong way and making the big muscles jump. "You're not the one who was pantsless in the presence of his commanding officer."

Rodney leans in so that every breath of his gusts warm over the head of John's cock--which even after ten minutes of conversation via a direct video link to the Atlantean gate room lies hard and red against his belly. John shivers. "No," Rodney says, smug, "I'm most definitely not the one who was without pants, or underwear, or a flaccid penis in the presence of my commanding officer."

"Christ," John said, hips jerking upwards helplessly as Rodney licks the length of him before opening his mouth and taking John inside, "Don't say flaccid, that's--"

Rodney mumbled something around John's cock, throat buzzing and humming with trapped noise in a way that makes John's eyes threaten to roll back in his head. He sucks once, hard, around the head before pulling off and says, "Well, it's obviously inaccurate, for a start," in a crisp, hoarse voice that makes John's fingers twitch.

"Thanks, Rodney," John snaps, "When I'm brought up on charges for conduct unbecoming, I'm glad I'll have you around to give accurate evidence for oh god."

"I'm a highly respected scientist," Rodney says, managing to sound both prim and imperious though he's just licked a hot line the length of John's dick, "My evidence is always fully supported by in-depth and repeated research." One of his hands slips down to caress John's balls, teasing further back to rub at warm and sensitive skin.

"Oh, really?" John asks, forehead crinkling up with that mixture of terrible fondness and righteous irritation that he's only ever associated with Rodney. He adopts his best falsetto voice, task made easier by what those clever, clever fingers are doing, and says "Sheppard, it is statistically improbable that Atlantis will be able to reconnect to this gate in less than an hour, so shut up, sit down, and let me blow you." He doesn't have to see Rodney's face to know that he's rolling his eyes.

He smacks John's thigh, hard enough to sting. "I said improbable, not impossible. Merriam-Webster didn't define them as synonyms, last time I checked. Now do you mind?"

John spreads his arms wide, offering himself up. "How could I refuse the last of the romantics, Rodney? You go right ahead." And Rodney, who makes a habit of listening to the important things John says, does.


End file.
